Broken
by Loui1505
Summary: High School AU. Sorta. Sam Oconel is a "freak". Dean Winchester doesn't know when to shut up and let it be. When something strange starts happening at Sam's school, why does the new guy need to know so much? Sam/Dean They aren't related though. A bit of abuse of a minor and what not.
1. Chapter 1

**HELLO! Wow! I'm actually writing again. After YEARS of not having the "time" (I was lazy). What can I say, I started reading again and watching shows and how could I not? :D **

**Summary: High School AU. Sam Oconel is a teenage freak if you ask anyone around. Dean Winchester isn't someone to give up a challenge, and with his dad out of town on a hunt, why not? Dean is staying with Bobby at the moment, and Sam has his own family. They aren't related Sam/Dean. **

**Warning: Sexual content, Abuse of a minor in later chapters, Hunter-ness in later chapters if that bothers anyone, Underage drinking and pot **

**Disclaimer: Dude...No.. There would be no Ruby, like ever, and there sure as hell would be more Death. **

**Enjoy ;")**

* * *

Dean was starting to wonder if what he was doing was okay. Of course, it wasn't. That's not what he meant. Was it really okay to love someone this much?

Sam lay sprawled out on Dean's bed. Nothing covering his shivering body besides a tank-top. His wrist tied to the head board above them, and a gag of Dean's glove in his mouth. He was whimpering and trying to pull Dean's hand back down with bare legs. Dean, who had just been slowly stroking him, was gazing right into pleading orbs.

"Sammy, calm down, baby. Just let me look at you for a sec." Dean smirked as Sam rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated cry. Bobby was right in the next room, and knowing the old codger, he'd be getting up soon, way before the sun. Dean needed to fucking touch him, now. He begged with his eyes, small mewls, along with his gulps for air coming in huffs. Becoming a total whore wasn't above him to get what he wanted. and by the look of Dean's utterly drooling state, it was working.

The older boy let his hand fall down from Sam's waist and caressed his leaking organ's head. His finger sliding down the side, ripping a low moan from Sam. Following along with teasing, he took a moment to play with his sack, before finally reaching the prize of the deal. Just slightly, Dean strokes the puckered hole.

"Haennn!" Sam was getting to loud again. Without a second delay, Dean smacked Sam on his ass. A small sob of heat flew into the dim room. The socks which bond the smaller boy were getting tugged viciously, his toes were digging down into the bed, and pre cum dipped devilishly onto twisting hips. All as Dean sucked on his fingers, watching his lover with a passion he's never felt before.

"Do you want me Sam? Do you want my cock inside you? Just nod yes or no baby." Dean couldn't help but giggle (he would correct anyone who said so as a chuckle though, men did not 'giggle') as Sam's head bobbed fiercely. Dean began to straddle the thin boy beneath him. Sam's gaze stayed on the movements coming from his savior, as if every single motion was a gift from a angel. Dean was one, that was something he was sure of.

Dean reached for the lube on the nightstand. His shirt had come off at some point, along with his pants. Toned legs were placed on each side of his thighs. Swinging back and forth in the cool late night air, almost like a erotic dance. The sight was totally beautiful. Breath taking. Priceless. Jesus, his inner monologue sounded like some sappy chick.

"I love you Sammy." Without having to hear the words in return, he new the feeling was mutual. Sam and Dean, it was just, meant to be. Fucking sappy ass chick.

Dean slicked himself up, then lubed up Sam's hole. He was about to put a finger inside when Sam tightened shut. Looking up he saw Sam's slowly shaking his head.

"What? I have to prep you, Sammy. It'll hurt like a bitch other wise." Sam's opening didn't change. What the hell? Literally, what the hell? They has done it many time now, not meaning it wouldn't hurt. However, he had a feeling they both were about to blow regardless. Dean sighed, shifting so Sam's legs were even closer to his. This was going to bite him in a way the would be sore a while after, they both knew it, so why the hell was he doing it anyway? Right, he was rock hard and ready to explode.

"Oh fuck. Sammy, please don't hate me." His words were blurred together from shushed moans being formed from the figure under him as his pushed inside. The lube helped, yes, but Sam was still so tight. Dean let out a breathless groan. Fuck, this was...it was...shit..he didn't know. Didn't care.

After getting use to the feeling, the thrusts came, then the urge to pick up speed, then Sam almost lost his head when he cummed onto both of them, Dean right behind him. The sex was great, but really it was the way they felt about each other that made it so good.

* * *

Sam had always been a nerd, a lanky geek with his nose in a book 24/7, but it had only gotten worse once he enter high school. He was a loner, a loser, a freak. Teenagers could be mean, cruel even. Sam wondered if adults forgot this after collage and jobs and what not. Probably not, seeing as he got those same bitter names at home, from his father.

A drunk, along with his over load of slutty girlfriends he drags in. When Sam had been six, his mother had died in a accident. Sure, fowl play had nothing to do with her head getting smashed into the wall. She was going to save little Sammy from the evil man who roamed through the halls at night, staggering in a drunken state. Cursing and belittling the both of them, she was going to take them away.

To a farm, she had said. There would have been ponies and piggies, and even a barn with a tire swing just for him. That was until her brains were scattered across the floor and he was hiding on the stairs, hushed, begging her to wake up and take him to the white fenced house of their dreams. Never happened.

He now comes home, watches hushed as his dad makes love to his tonic and gen, following through with his new _lover, _Bella. Studies for a collage he'll never be allowed to go to, sleeps in a bed stained in years of memories. Slave wouldn't fit him, a slave is recognized for his doings, Sam just does the house work because if he didn't, his father would die in his own filth. Cooks, cleans, speaks for the both of them, who else would? Though the man stole his mother, even if he won't look at him, he is Sam's dad, and Sam loves him none the less.

School was the same as home. Kids either mock him or ignore his existence. There was this one girl, Jess. She would go out of her way to get to know him. He was a cancer walking the earth, it was best for him to keep his distance. Her frown or sad eyes almost made him change his mind every time he would totally ignore her, almost. No one should bother with him, and no one did.

That was until that freaking jerk showed up. Dean Winchester. He must be as stupid as Sam pegged him to be, or a total perv because no matter how hard he tired, the idiot wouldn't leave him alone. Always following him around, asking him questions, _flirting_! He wouldn't leave him alone for heaven or hell! He was going to fix that. No matter what. Dean was going to realize what he was really messing with here.

If only Sam knew it was the other way around.

* * *

**So? Yes? No? I must let you know I have a few other chapters, not exactly ****_finished_**** per say, but ready to be over looked and put out. Should I? I have a few ideas of where this could go. **

**Review are much needed, even if they aren't nice, I take them all. Thanks :3**


	2. Chapter 2

**My god did I write more than I planned. I redid the two chapters I had, then added more. Blah. I'm so friggin tired now. I haven't gotten any reviews but that doesn't really matter to me, I'm not much of a reviewer myself. This is the beginning, last chapter was more like after everything and the back story of Sam. Hell, it was just a sex ploy and Sam. xD This is my first serious fiction I've ever done. I'm trying really hard and I hope it isn't utter shit. **

**Warning: Sexual content, Abuse of a minor in later chapters, Hunter-ness in later chapters if that bothers anyone, underage drinking, and pot**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural *goes and cries in corner* **

**Enjoy ;3**

* * *

It wasn't the first day of school, nor in the middle, or the last. It was somewhere stuck in the third and forth week of senior year. He would forever have that day embedded in his skull. The day Sam met Dean Winchester.

It had been going along as usual. Nothing exactly special had happened sense he stepped off the crowded bus and made his way to the school. Well, he wouldn't put being tripped and almost landing face fist in a mud puddle special or anything. He barely had control over his unyielding limbs, he didn't need anyone's help with that. Completely bypassing his locker he enter math class and instantly knew something was off.

With every single class, every single student, there was a routine. Each person treated Sam a certain way. Seeing as Jessica wasn't in Algebra 1, first period didn't hold any up beat perks. However, today it was a different atmosphere. The norm was for a top notch bully, named Mike, to make a snide remark from the back upon his entrance. That would be followed by Claire and her friend's pointing and laughing oh so openly it was painful to watch. That wasn't happening.

Mike appeared to be to distracted to notice Sam. Claire was indeed pointing, but not at the school's freak, at a new comer. Standing next to Mrs. Triller, home room teacher, was a sight to behold. Tall, lean, muscular, hair cut short and jagged but thick and blonde. Sporting a grin that had those green eyes popping. Hubba hubba. Mentally slapping himself, Sam noted he was gaping at said new guy. Pitiful homo, having no control over himself as he scanned the dreamy god once again. He was screwed.

He didn't seem all that interested in what was going on around him. Throwing a few winks here and there at the girls who were leaning in on him. Mrs. Triller was shuffling through papers, unaware of the rare moment of silence in her room. Suddenly, she sprang up like a jack rabbit. _Always was a crack whore. _

"Ah! Here we are at last!" Her horrid high pitched voice broke the peace that was covering Sam's creeping and he made his way to his desk, being as agile as possible. Sadly, Mr. New Guy Sex God caught him with his gaze, for a brief moment Sam was trapped in a green ocean. There was something else though, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't looking into a normal set of teenager's eyes. His insides fluttered at the smile he was given after a second.

"Mr. Winchester, I've found your work. Would you like to tell everyone a bit about yourself first?" Winchester? Like the gun? What a odd name, fitting for such a unique person.

"Why not?", His voice told a story in itself. Not only was it undeniably sexy, but aged, like a fine whiskey, also a bit gravely, "Names Dean. Seventeen, I'm staying with my Uncle for a bit, and I don't give a rat's ass about this class, not any really. Thanks sweetheart, love this part." With that he strolled over and took the always vacant spot by Sam, who would be having a fit if he wasn't busy being shocked.

The class erupted into bellows of laughter and cheers. Girls were presenting themselves in an almost primal way, it was kind of disgusting. Sam found himself contemplating doing the same. In other news, Mrs, Triller looked as if she might be having a aneurysm. Everyone knew she wasn't one to handle being made a mockery of well, Sam better than anyone. She basically smashed his papers down on the hard wood, stooping all to shut up.

"Well, well, it looks like there are two of a kind, and they've already bunked up. Sam, I here by make you Dean's tour guide for the rest of the week. You are responsible for each other. Suffer through it together."

* * *

After class Sam was being followed down the hall by a very hyper Dean, a few paces behind all the way. The sent of metal and oil, along with what must be none other than burger hit his nose, making his pants twitch. This was his living hell. _Great Sam. You've gotten a hard on for the new guy sex god. Pathetic. _

"So, where to, kitten?" He was on fire. Spontaneous Combustion was a myth, right? There was no way he was going to burst into flames, right here and there from one simple pet name. It wasn't even that, just a ploy to edge him on, or maybe Dean Winchester just went around calling everyone animal names. They were already drawing enough attention with the jealous glares, for Dean from the girls and at Dean from the guys. Thank god for once it wasn't Sam.

"It's Sam." Proud that his voice stayed firm, he picked up the speed. Dean's boots clanked the floor as he tried to keep up, muttering something under his breath that sounded like swearing.

"Okay, Got'cha Sammy. So what's my next class?" Okay, so nicknames weren't going anywhere with this dude, that much was known. Pivoting on his heal, Sam turned to face him, almost gasping. His body went into overdrive when Dean bumped into him. The smells, the feels, everything multiplied to the point where Sam couldn't breath. Dean back away with a sheepish shrug. Going from a quick walk to a sudden stop surprised most people.

"Um.. Ah.. P.E.! Yeah! That's next. Us both have it next, for class I mean.. Yup." _Breath damnit. You fucking idiot._ It was hard to gain control again but he did. Dean nodded. Ignoring Sam's flustered state completely, moving to his always handy fall back, joking and flirting.

"You, me, room full of sweaty guy, sounds hot." Inner Sam and Dean groaned in unison. One in pleasure, one in the fact of stupidity at that statement. Which was which?

This was either going to be a bitch of a fucking nightmare, or pretty fucking epic.

* * *

He couldn't place it no matter how hard he tried. Sam knew he had heard the song Dean was humming somewhere before, just couldn't remberer. He was right when thinking that voice was old, but not so much it hurt to listen to. The way the notes floated into the open air, coating Sam's already shivering nerves had him intrigued.

"Whats that?" He didn't dare try pull a about-face again, and end up with a body full of Dean. Getting a boner and the awkwardness that would ensue would be to much for both boys to handle. Instead he remained with his steady stride, eyes forward, heart held back by cracking ribs.

Dean raised a eyebrow at the kid's question, it was surprising. He had assumed he would ignore him as much as possible after he spazzed out. He knew he really shouldn't get involved with a kid like this, wasn't legal, and he needed to focus, but it just looked like so much fun. Plus he was freaking adorable. "The song? Hotel California."

Sam had a full out light bulb moment, bright eyes and all. Old voice singing old song, made his head spin. Sam really wanted to go full gaga over this dreamy hunk, but knew he couldn't. For a number of reasons. One being that the guy was the straightest thing walking the Earth sense the Republican Party (or so they say). Second, fag was pelted at him right along with freak and nerd but he wasn't actually out, and there was no way in hell he was actually taking that chance. Also, Sam had more pride in himself than to just flaunt over some guy he'd just met a few minutes ago. There was no more conversation once they hit the gym.

It was hot. The '_please throw me in the showers Mr. Mean Jock I'll love you forever' _hot. Wooden bleachers seemed to welt in the heat, while the dirty floor was coated in a sheen of sweat and God knows what else. Dean evaluated the rest of his pupils, realizing how they were all shut off into select groups. Preps with jocks, nerds with geeks, emos with goths. Seemed to fall into the norm.

Sam remained by his side, not falling into a pitiful, social flock, and he liked that. In the middle of all the commotion was a hefty man, balding, and a scowl on his face that seemed to be permanent. A snip whistle blow left a ringing in everyone's ear as they gather'd in a line. Dean frowned when Sam tried to stay as far away from the guys as possible, it deepening when he saw the stink eye one was giving the kid. He could have sworn Sam winced into him, only to hastily slither away.

"You the new guy?" Getting right to the dead line, Baldy nudges Dean in the chest with his pen. _Shake it off._

"Yup. Brand spanking and all that jizz. Nice to meet you, Couch Mr. Clean." Flashing a toothy grin, Dean can't help but chuckle. Whistle still placed in his mouth, Baldy almost chokes to death after hearing the remake. Sam is again left as a fish out of water while the rest of class breaks into laughter. There was another blaring whip.

"That is Couch Ross to you, young man. Thanks to you, everyone gets to run five laps to start off the day. Well, get a move on!" The man really needed to get a new toy. With a whistle start off, a few groans here and there, it began. Some in a fast sprint, other in a buzzed jog, Sam and Dean find themselves content with a slow run, so they could continue their talk.

"So, you just wandering around asking for a death wish?" Dean laughs at that because, oh, the irony. Sam kind of regrets not using his lanky legs and getting this over with because half is already finish, but Dean is more interesting.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just like to have a little fun here and there." The kid is cute with him being uncoordinated and almost tripping over his own two feet every other step. Getting a closer look, Dean sees Sam is actually taller than him, which would have hurt his pride if he wasn't so thin. He was built well, yeah, but nothing next to the son of a navy man. His hair was shaggy, something John would never allow in a million years, and it almost cover his eyes. Man, those eyes. A dark green with specks of golden that would be a crime to compare to dirt brown. His arms and legs barely match up with his torso, and they are curvy, like a chick's. Dean has a haunting feeling that if he was to let that slip, there would be hell to pay.

They were going fine, lap four and a half, second to last, in front of poor Jackie, the school's largest girl. Sam had cracked a joked about Dean's flirting with all the girls, calling him a man slut, and during his defending himself, was put off when the kid's face was no longer level with his. Sam was sent flying to the ground with a nasty thud. Turning his attention from the most likely injured boy, Dean saw three guys his size and build. More specifically, the one with a bad eye, and seemed to have trouble controlling his arms.

"What the hell is your problem man?" Not standing the way they mocked as Sam crawled his way to his feet with the help of Dean's arm for support, he seethed. Taking in a quick evaluation he saw the kid has a bruise on his left cheek, burns on his palms, and no doubt his knees. He also landed oddly on his ankle.

"Com'on! Every homo needs a little roughin' up now and then! Bet the fag likes it that way don't yo-" Mike was unable to finish his homophobic rant, mostly because his face came in contact with Dean's fist. Simple, no fucking around. He wouldn't stand for bully of any kind or reason. For the third time today, Sam was left dumb struck by Dean Winchester, Mr. New Guy Sex God.

More so this time, however. He was defending him, some loser he just met. A, as said before, fag he didn't know. Why stand up to the school's most popular jock, as cliche as it is. He would not be the damsel is distress, damnnit. Even if it made his heart beat a bit faster at the notion. Coming out of his stupor, he became aware of the full on war that was about to happen.

"_My_ problem? Dafuq dude?" Mike and his goons were circling Dean now, Sam shamelessly hidden behind him. They looked ready to go in for the kill. To Sam's bewilderment, Dean didn't look the least bit frightened. Instead, he puffed up, preparing for a counter attack.

"Ya know, guys like you put a bug up my ass." There was a moment where the neanderthals took their time taking in Dean's insult, puzzlement written on their faces. Sam let a smirk cross his. Once realizing what he meant, fury replaced stupidity. Sam got worried again.

"Uh, Dean.. I think we should just go. Please.." His fingers grasped around the leather jacket as pissed teens inch closer. Dean was stumped. A few years ago, he would wast these douche bags, but hes older now. He can also feel the _don't fuck with me_ vibes radiating off the kid clutching him from behind. He really just wants to get out of here. He faces Sam with what can only be a understanding smile.

"Fine," He turns back to Mike, "but just so you know, I could take you. Oh, another thing. Your girlfriend so wants me." With that he takes Sam's hand in his and bolts.

* * *

By the time they got far enough away from the gym, oxygen was heroin and they were addicts. Gulping in breaths Sam limps over to the side of a building, leaning all his weight against the bricks and taking it off his slowly swelling lump. Dean makes his way over, a grin plastered on his shining features. It vanishes when he sees the limp.

"You okay?" He reaches for his wrist only to be granted his hand slapped away.

"I'm not amused, Winchester. What the hell was that back there?" Dean pouts at his last named being tossed at him like that. It makes him feel like hes five again and being caught playing with his dad's knife. In all honesty he doesn't know. He knew better than to get physical with minors. He could have easily messed with their heads, or pussied out and told on them. No, he had punched the guy.

"I don't dig bigots. Let me see your ankle." Sam raises a eyebrow at his dismissive tone and scoots away when he grabs for his pant's leg. Dean grunts in annoyance but he doesn't give. First, this isn't the first sprained ankle he's had, he'll live. Second, he isn't a baby, he doesn't need to be coddled over by Dean.

"Listen Sammy, I know what I'm doing here. I won't hurt you. Just let me see it." Dean is crouching in front of him now, Sam trapped in a corned, no way of slipping away._ Shit._

"Its Sam," He allows Dean to life his jeans and slide off his sneaker and sock. Its a disgusting combination of purple and black, already, and twice it's normal size. _Shit._ He sucks in a sharp breath when Dean twists it the wrong way, "What are you? A doctor?" Dean scoffs. He lowers Sam down so he is sitting on pebbles and dead grass, much to his distaste.

"Something like that," He stands, gazing around them. There was no one in sight, he seemed to have led them to the back of nowhere, "You need to see the nurse."

At that Sam tries to stand, but fails pitifully. Once his butt is firmly connected to earth, he glares up at Dean, who in turn smirks. No way. He can't take that chance. It's just one foot, people have done more with less. If this Mr. New Guy Sex God thinks he is going to have any say in his perfect attendance, he has another thing coming.

"No. I'm fine."

"Your ankle needs ice, Sammy." Sam's eyebrow twitches in a manner he thought humanly impossible.

"It. Is. Sam. I can handle a little booboo, Dean. I'm fine."

"Listen, just go see the nurse."

"No, not happening." Dean throws his hands up in frustration. This kid is freaking annoying.

"Then go home and put some ice on it!" Sam frowns at the thought.

"Its only second period! I can't go home!" Dean lets out a angry growl and hoist Sam off the ground using his shirt, earning a small yelp from the boy. Wide, yet unyielding eyes meet wild, also unyielding eyes. This was going absolutely nowhere. Dean thinks about carrying a very upset Sam over his shoulder to the nurses offices and being done with it, but something stops him. Something that whacks him up side the head and stops his heart at the same time.

Deep, buried under the defiance and fear, in those beautiful eyes was Dean. Not his reflection, no, but he himself. The impossible need to please someone. The want to be loved. The desire for family. He loosens his grip, letting the boy's feet touch ground again. During his recognition, Sam has gone from being afraid to pissed in those few seconds. He was ready to punch Dean.

"Wheres the cafeteria?" Dean gets a blank stare, to which he rolls his eyes, "If you won't go to the nurse, or go home, I'll snatch you some ice. Where is it?" Blink. Blink. Tic. Tock. _Jesus this kid is slow. _It hits Sam like a truck and he only looks baffled with his mouth open, again. Four times today Winchester has surprised him. _Finally._ He nods his head behind Dean, catching on to how close they are, blushes.

"Other side." A curt nod was all he got and a arm to use as balance. Making their way over a steep hill and few steps was painstakingly slow with a injured Sam. He didn't seem to know how to use his working leg along with his hurt one, which led to many almost-tumbles if there hadn't been Dean. With the last one, Sam ended up clinging to Dean like a life line, praying to God he hadn't sprained his _other_ ankle. Looking up he saw that his hand was horrifyingly close to Dean's junk. Whipping his it away like fire didn't help much, but Dean had.

"Buy me a drink first, Sammy." Opting to laugh as well had been the right call and all was forgiven. Once reaching the top relief flew through the both of them. Ice, relax a bit, then third period. That was the plan anyway. Until their view was assaulted by blue and red. Two police cars parked at the front of school, which also happened to be beside the cafeteria. Sam froze while Dean became a little to serious.

"Dude, if they're here for you, I swear I won't snitch."

"Ha, yeah. Thanks, Sammy."

**TBC**

* * *

**Whoo! *Breathless* That...That was freaking hard. I've never done so much in my entire life. You're welcome. **

**So as you may have guessed, this wont be a normal high school romance, I have to add some Supernatural in there. Also, Dean isn't really seventeen... So adult and a minor stuff happen BUT they won't do any frisky kinky stuff until Sam is 18, which will be soon, I swear. You shouldn't complain, go read chapter 1. -_- **

**Review? Please? Tell me what you think! Should I continue? It may be a while before my next update! Omg writing it time consuming! X[**


	3. Chapter 3

**And here we are again, my dears. Honestly, I'm just winging it now. I got a review! :D You get a cookie my good fellow, om nom nom on it til the days end. In this chapter you find out Dean's mother was killed still in a fire, but in this story, I'm having it done by just a demon. There will be no demon blood drinking or anything. Shame. **

**Warning: Sexual content, Underage drinking, death in this chapter, hunter-ness in later chapters, Abuse of a minor in later chapters and pot. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural *sings sad songs while eating pie* (it gets messy)**

**Enjoy ;3**

* * *

Sam had been around cops before. First being when his mother died. Two had shown up at his door, solid faces and little sympathy. At the ripe age of six, he didn't understand exactly what was going on. Mommy wouldn't move and the monster was being inviting. Fake tears and lies dribbled out of the man, all while Sammy sat in the kitchen with the other police officer. A husky, middle aged guy with a mustache. His partner was younger, but no more sorry for the kid. They bought his father's crap story and ringed in a body bag. They left without so much another word.

His next encounter was at the age of fourteen. He didn't include the call's from the station informing him of nights his father would be spending in lock up, confrontations. He was doing dishes, cold water, and somehow ended up slicing his hand on a broken glass. Spewing words his father bestowed upon him, he enfolded his wound in a disgusting hand towel. There was a knock on the screen door of the shack he was forced to call home, and he let a few more swears out at his state.

Taking in what he saw, it was hard not to bust a gut. It took all his will not to burst out laughing once he got over his stupor. It didn't happen to be the same cop who was there the night of his mother's passing, but he looked equally as checked out. Beside him was his father, only the man was covered head to toe in what seemed to be, was that _shit?_ Apparently, his dad's drug alcohol level was three times that of a normal drunk. It was surprising he was still breathing, let alone conscious. Sam passed it off as years of practice. Simply put, he had stumbled his way into the sewers and taken a nap. However, when he awoke, he realized he had forgotten where he was and walked up to a poor lady to ask for directions. She called the police.

Sam ushered both men inside, instructing his father to go strip and shower. With a gruff huff as a answer, his father wonders away, doing as told. Not speaking regularly, it was fine with Sam. Finally catching on to the fact that his hand had ceased it's bleeding, Sam removed his make-shift bandage and began the always awkward stare-down with the cop. He had expected him to make sure his father would be okay and be on his way. He didn't anticipate the threats.

Foster care.

Jail.

Heath Cervices.

Anger flares in his gut, something over takes him. He feels protective of the man he hates most in the world. Mostly though, he doesn't want to go live with other children. He doesn't want to admit there is something wrong. Telling the officer that unless he happens to has a warrant under that smug ego of self importance, he should leave. The cop blinks, sneers, and walks out. Sam fears his dad may end up in jail because of him. Never happens.

That's the normal life for him.

Sense then, he's been wary of cops.

* * *

Dean had been around cops before. First when his mother died. They were everywhere, rushing around along with the firemen. Yeah, there had been a fire. A big one. It was in his bedroom, gobbling as it grew and he didn't understand why Mommy was in there. He had a upset tummy and Daddy had taken him downstairs to watch cartoons to make him feel better. Really, Dad would rub his back and gently rock him which would make it all okay. Then Mom had screamed. It was something Dean wished to this day he could forget. Dad darted to his room, but he was to late.

When the flames died down, after the police got their statement, and everything began to calm, Dean glanced up at his Father. He saw the broken shell of his hero. How was he suppose to care for a four year old after seeing what he saw? Mary didn't die from a normal house fire. No way in hell. His son sat in his lap, looking up at him with sullen eyes. His boy, his Dean. Mary's angel. The monster that did this would pay.

Cops are fools, easily tricked, but they are also dangerous. Dean knew this from experience. One wrong turn, slip of the tongue and you could end up in the slammer. The last thing he needed was his gorgeous face plastered over the world wide web for a jail break. He had been in situations where talking his way out was the only option, and it worked. And one time when it didn't.

It was one of his very first solo hunts. His dad was very picky about what the nineteen year old could do by himself, and found a elementary salt and burn for Dean. Dexter, Missouri. Three men where murdered with their eyes burnt out, all seemed to be adulterers. Jessy Hopkin was a crazy bitch in Dean's book. Yeah, he didn't like cheaters either, though he was pretty sure he helped a few lassies out with it, but that didn't mean they deserved to die. She had gone all the way to being able to possess women and lure the men in with looks, then ganking them. He was in the middle of digging with the police officer showed up.

It was difficult to come up with a reason for _why_ he was disheveling a grave without stating the truth. "Yeah, hi officer, just stopping this psycho bitch ghost whose been killing all those men. You see, I gotta salt and burn her bones so she can pass on or whatever the hell happens. It's all for the better good. I'm a hero, I promise." Didn't seem legit. He tried to go a different road. He was being punked. He swore he heard someone calling for help in the coffin. No go. The cop thought he was a grave robber. Him? Really? That night in jail another man died. The next day he couldn't get to Jessy's remains because they were refilling what he had dug up. Another bites the dust.

Sense then, he's kept his distance from police except when needed.

* * *

Randy had been around teenagers before. First with is family. Then on the job, of course. Underage drinking was big nowadays. Along with drug use, the kids where little criminals. His sister had three brats, all boys. He can't understand why she labeled them so all their names start with the letter "G"; Grayson, Grant, Gorge. His sister was a kind woman, married right outta high school. Her husband worked at a mill on the outskirts of town and she was a part time waitress. She was a good person.

Grayson was in collage. He had his share of disciplinary problems. Pot was a major effect on his grades. He had begun to sell it with a group of friends and it all went down hill from there. Grant was a okay kid. He was popular and a jock. Played football, hung out with his friends. He had a problem with drinking, however. Gorge was the worse of Hell's three musketeers. Walking around like he owned everyone he laid eyes on. Getting into fist fights, baring a knife. Shooting up drugs he should be learning the chemical sign for, not the brewing method. He was even slapped with rape charges. Randy's sister begged him to help out, bidding him with promises of renews and punishment. In the end he caved, and in the end Gorge walked. Kid still thinks he is king.

It wasn't just his nephews that left Randy with a sour spot for teens. Being a officer of the law, you see thing all the bleach in the world couldn't wash out of your brain. A skinny kid was being picked on by his fellow class mates a few years back, different district. He had gotten the gun from his father's unlocked lock-box, brought it to school and opened fire. Six dead, four injured. Then there were the baby gangs, harassing the elderly and minor theft. Nothing people would consider much of, but Randy knew it was only leading to the worse. It was just like that song Grant was blaring one day, teenagers did in fact, scare the living shit out of him.

Sense becoming aware of their lack of empathy and craving for blood, he avoided them as much as possible.

* * *

Getting ice was out of the question, that much was known. Both felt the eerie zeal hanging in the air. Sam forbid himself from ducking behind Dean once again, even at the sight of police. Rather, he located himself so that he was just a few inches away. Hey, he wasn't one to put down being a sissy when the time called for it. Dean on the other hand, remained stoic. His jaw was fastened tight, in turn those, to plump, lips were set in a even line. He walked directly towards the hustle and bustle. _Five fucking times,_ _Winchester. _

Not wanting to be left alone, Sam briskly follows, grumbling. Mr. New Guy Sex God was becoming more trouble than his worth. A few more black and whites had arrived, their owners either scoping the area or whisking inside. There was one officer, tall, but by no means angular, barking orders. He looked overly uncomfortable, fixed in the center of all this. He saw Sam and Dean making their way over to him and glared daggers. Sam felt his stomach drop.

"Hey, Law and Order," Dean didn't seem fazed by the scowl he was being given, but Sam made sure to make it clear that he wasn't a part of this. "Whats going on?" The officer was sizing them up, taking in Sam's beaten status and Dean's cocky attitude, passing judgment promptly.

"Shouldn't you boys be in class or somethin'?" Something was exactly what they should be doing. Dean was suppose to be playing hero, Sam was suppose to act like he didn't care, then they were suppose to make their way to third period. Not whatever Dean had hidden up his sleeve, and god knew Sam didn't want to know what.

"I work for the school's newspaper. I was just interviewing Sammy here about the inconvenience of bullying," Sam pulled a long face at the nickname but was none the less impressed at how easily Dean was able to lie straight up at a cop, "This wouldn't have anything to do with all those spooky ghost sightings would it?"

That threw Sam in a loop. Ghosts? At his school? There isn't such a thing as spirits. It appeared the officer was on his side when it came to this. He gave Dean an annoyed look followed by a wave of the hand. He didn't have time for bothersome kids.

"No, now get going. I have more important things to handle." He began to head in the other direction when Dean spoke up again.

"Someone is dead, huh? Its a weird death too. Like, there is something off about it." Sam wasn't sure how much more his mind could take. Dean Winchester, Mr. New Guy Sex God, really needed to stop screwing with him. The cop halted his retreat, his shoulders slumping. _Shit_. Dean was right. He confronted them again, eyeballing Dean, probably debating if he was the culprit.

"What do you know, boy?" His voice was strained, holding back emotion caused by Sam didn't know. Dean was just as somber, transforming into a man. Sam watched as the playful banter vanished and was replaced by a earnest adult. He leveled up, his back aligned and chest fixed, all signs of a professional. Question was, at what?

"Nothing really, sir. Just curious. My dad is a cop, I know the look. I was joking earlier about ghosts." The cop seemed to by his fib and relaxed a bit. Dean also loosened, leaning on his heels. A quick glance and he suddenly remembered Sam is there with him. He smiles timidly at him, to which he gets a glare. Puppy is pissed.

"I'm afraid there has been a fatality," Sam frowns. Someone died at his school. That is just creepy. Dean remains the same, although, the glimmer in his eyes die down a notch or two. The cop sighs, scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit, not believing he is speaking to two teenagers, let alone about a case. "She was found in the library. Weird thing is, she died because her lungs were full of water."

Bingo.

Bobby had been right to send him to this crap school after all. Only a few of the girls where legal and Dean was having a hard time, even if it was just his first day. True, he found it surprising to luck out this soon, but he was in no way complaining. Rumor has it the police force in these parts are very tight nit, no way would he be getting anything out of them with a fake I.D. Bobby, the bastard, had come up with the brilliant idea for Dean to go undercover. As a student at the school, where the most sightings happened.

Sure, he was young, fit, and sexy, but that didn't mean he enjoyed government meals, cliques, and bullies. Man, he had barely made it threw the first go around, now he was having to do it all over again. Walking through the halls he had kept his _'I don't give a shit_' motto strong and it worked. Sam was different in the fact that he didn't slander him, but didn't drool over him either. He treated him oddly normal, which Dean found nice. Well, at the moment, Sam looked like he could murder the hunter, and that scared him a little. He also looked a bit upset. He spoke, which shocked them all.

"That is..awful. Why're you telling us this?" Dean gawks at him. Really? Bring up the fact that he's disclosing information he isn't allowed to right in the moment of doing so? The kid sucks at this. He holds back slapping Sam up side the head, even it the urge is itching. Dean breaths in deep and waits. To his relief, the cop just shrugs.

"Word will get out sooner or later. Can't keep it from happening. Might as well let it be the truth. Don't want any nasty rumors starting about the poor girl." Sam freezes.

"It was a student?" The officer nods.

"A girl. She was studying in the back, when she didn't come after the bell rang, another pupil found her." He lets out a puff of air as they all swirl to watch a stretcher being wheeled out. During their conversation, a ambulance had arrived. The body was encased in a black tarp, strapped in. Sam had seen it before, it caused him to shudder. Dean also stiffens.

"Well, thanks a lot," Dean leans in a bit, finally taking a chance to learn the guy's name, "Officer Randy. We'll be going now. Cm'on, Sammy." He grabs Sam by the elbow and makes to pull him from the ongoing play before them, but he doesn't budge. "Sam?" The kid's eyes switch from the form being lift into the back of the truck to Randy, he has a uneasy feeling about something.

"Who was it?" Officer Randy debates this. He isn't sure if he should tell him or not. He isn't permitted to make public victim's names until he has the okay from the family and the station.

"I can't kid, sorry." Determination replaces that of sickness.

"You said yourself that everyone would have it figured out by days end, whats a few hours going to hurt? What, you think no ones going to notice one student missing? What is her name?" Randy was speechless. First, the kid was right. Everyone would know who was killed by the end of the day. Second, he had balls. It wasn't hard to tell he was afraid of cops, so his little outburst was surprising. His little friend seemed to be just as stooped.

He mulled it over a few times. They didn't seem like average teenagers he had dealt with in the past. The shorter one came off on the wrong foot, however. He had jumped to conclusions and thought he was picking on the other. When he had blurted out the death idea, he was jarred. Thinking he was the killer wasn't logical, how could he get water into her lungs with no signs of a struggle? A cop's boy. He could buy it. The hair cut and way he spoke when he got serious, Randy wouldn't put it past him that his father also probably served. The taller was polite and respectful, he passed as well. Fine, he would stick his neck out a little.

"Alright, but you didn't hear this from me, got it?" Dean raised a eyebrow, he would have been perfectly fine waiting until tomorrow finding out who had been killed. He needed to know, yeah, but not right now. Why the kid did was news to him. Sam had a poker face on, hard to read. He let it fly. The cop took a breath.

"Jessica Moore."

* * *

It was a good thing John had taught Dean to prepare for anything, because Randy sure as hell wasn't ready for Sam to collapse. His knees buckled and he just, fell forward. Would have made nasty contact with asphalt if Dean's arms hadn't enfolded around him. The kid was already broken up enough, didn't need any new wounds.

Over and over again he kept whispering "Jess is dead" which lead Dean to believe Sam knew the girl. That only made matters worse. Randy helped Dean drag Sam over to a bench, away from all the death and gloom. The kid sat there, looking into space, eyes hollow and void. Dean decided he was worth it and placed himself beside the boy. Randy stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do with himself.

"Uh, is there anything I can get him?" Dean thought about it. If it was him, he would reply for a shot of whiskey. Sam wasn't a drinker, was he? It wasn't legal anyway, and this guy was a cop. He placed a hand on Sam's back, no reaction, not a good sigh. Kid was going into shock.

"Maybe a soda or something," Randy nodded and began to make he way to retrieve the beverage when Dean added, "Oh, and some ice. For his ankle." He got a questioning look but ignored it completely, applying his full attention to Sam once again.

His fingers were clasped in a iron grip, face distraught, and his breathing coming out in helpless gasps. He was close to hyperventilating. Dean deposited his own hand over Sam's, shushing him. He had been around a lot of people when they freaked. Finding out about the supernatural didn't go over that smoothly usually. Mothering wasn't working with Sam, time for plan B.

"Sam, I need you to listen to me," Dean's voice was stronger yet still soft, "I know this is hard, I know she was your friend. Everything is going to work out, okay? I need you to buck up. I need you to be strong, Sam. Do you understand me? Sam? _Sammy!_" His last words had jolted Sam so that he was clutching Dean's hand. For Sam it was like a bullet had gone off beside his ear. He slowly faced Dean, the looked of a lost child broke Dean's heart.

"Its Sam." Dean gave a weak smile. Randy chose this time to appear with the goods.

"Here we are, Dr. Pepper and ice for the boy," Randy hands it over to a very appreciative Dean, "Listen, I gotta get back to work. You can handle him I assume?" Dean shoos him away, causing the officer to chuckle. They seemed to be good kids in his book, unique to find in these parts, hell, anywhere for that matter. He heads back to regroup and go to the station.

Dean re-positions them so Sam's sprained ankle is laying across his legs, Sam no less closer to him. During the process he had to untangle his hand from the kid's, which was extremely difficult. He gently applied the ice, causing Sam to hiss in discomfort. He popped the top on the can and handed it to Sam, instructing him to drink. There was silence besides the slurps of Sam's drink.

"She really is dead, huh?" Dean watched as Sam's eyes glisten. It's been forever sense he cried. Honestly, Sam can't recall the last time. Maybe when his dad beat the kitten he found outside on the street to death. He said he already had enough mouths to feed, didn't need another. Dean yanked Sam over by his thigh, the kid dropped the soda and watched in awe. He was also flushed at being so close, again. _Fucking Winchester._

The hunter used his button-up to wipe away the few tear that jump free, making Sam feel like a baby. He pushed at Dean's arms, a feeble attempt. Its almost as if he hadn't slept in days, he was undeniably exhausted. The kind gesture only reminded him of Jess, causing a full on weep fest. He tried to hide it, he really did, but Dean didn't help. He holds the shirt on Sam's face, and it must look weird as shit to anyone walking by. Sam's leg in Dean's lap, Dean holding his shirt in front of Sam's bawling face while Sam tries to jerk it away. Yeah, they were both morons.

Dean had no idea what he was doing. Part of him wanted to laugh his ass off at how funny it looked. The other part knew he was the idiot in this. People must have thought he was trying to suffocate the kid or something. He just didn't like crying, of any kind. Didn't like hearing it or seeing it, so he blocked it out. Shoving his shirt at Sam and leaving him flailing wasn't the best option, but it was the only one he was able to come up with. It started off with comforting him, but then he just wanted to stop Sam. He didn't know what to do after. His face was serious, he looked like a crazy person. _Kill me now. _He whipped it away.

"Sorry, sorry. Just, ya know, don't cry. Okay?" Sam blinked at him. Poor kid didn't even have enough energy to be angry with him. He started to cry again, and damn, Dean didn't know what to do. It wasn't like a girly cry or anything. It was one of those silent cries where it was just the tears, and those are the worst. You can see the agony written on the people's faces so clearly that way. "Listen, I swear Sammy, I'll get what did this to Jess. You have my word."

Sam's expression didn't change much from despair. Although, he seemed a little bit disturbed as well. "What?"

Dean stands, resting Sam's leg on the bench and pulling a horrid superhero pose. "Though it may not seem as such, I am very good a solving things. My dad taught me a thing or two. I promise that I'm not all good looks and sexy pec-"

"Not that, you idiot," Dean wasn't sure if he should be more upset about the insult or being interrupted. "You said 'what', not _who_. What did you mean?" Dean froze, grin still in place. Had he really let that slip? "The cop said there was water in her lungs. Last time I checked, there isn't a swimming pool in the school. You where talking about ghosts. Somethings off. There is no way in hell the only person that was ever nice to me was murdered by Elvis, but you know something. Spill."

Sam could be scary. He had been a pile of weeping, injured crybaby a few seconds ago, and now he was sending cold chills down Dean's spine. He admired his courage and pride, but there was no way in hell Dean was involving him in this. One, he would never believe him. Two, the kid could barley manage a few steps, let alone a pissed spirit.

"Ever seen Ghost Hunters? I'm like those guys, but a bigger dick. Its better if you keep your distance." He turned, planning how to get into the library. Sam was fuming, he had enough of being ignored. He had enough of ignoring others.

"I can get you in, Winchester!" Dean stilled mid step. _Good boy._ "The library, right? They'll be cleaning it soon. I can also get you into the school's records. And with Jess's parents if you want. I can do a lot of things." Dean begins the process taught to him to calm down. Eyes shut, air in through your nose, out through your mouth. He and Sam make eye contact, _really_ look at each other. He walks back and plops down. _  
_

"Ten. I'll pick you up. You'll give me your address at the end of the day. You wont ask any questions, you go along with everything I say. Anything dangerous happens and you get hurt, you're out. Got it?" Dean didn't even bother to look at Sam. He'll agree or he won't go.

Dean gives orders like he's making a grocery list. They come out so easily, he must do it often. Sam nods, daring the other to find a reason to forbid him to come along. They sit there a while longer. Third period is a vague dream along with the rest. Suddenly Dean breaks out of his daze.

"Elvis? Really?" Sam shrugs.

"Its one of the popular theories."

* * *

Its hard for him to take it all in. Today he met Mr. New Guy Sex God, who he would be breaking into the school with. They where most likely looking for a ghost, though he was sure it wasn't Elvis. Also, Jessica was dead. The only person who went out of her way to be nice to him, dead. Today had been eventful.

**TBC**

* * *

**God, that Elvis line cracks me up for some reason. xD I killed Jessica. I know, I'm horrible, but having her around would be weird. I debated making Sam's reaction to all this like that when Dean got his wish granted and Sam wanted to lock him up in a ward. However, that would take forever and I would have way to much fun with Dean breaking out, so I have something else in mind. Hope you liked it. :3 **

**Review! I shit giggles or giggle shits, whatever. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I have a stomach virus and feel like I'm dying, so this was without question the hardest chapter so far. It probably isn't as diverse as I'd like it, but it's as good as it's going to get. It was really difficult because when I started this story I knew there would be supernatural snidbits in it, but coming up with it is freaking hard. I wasn't lying when I said I was winging it. I had to come up with a ghost, a background story for the ghost, and why that ghost killed Jessica. Blah. I hope this is okay. I'm going to down a bottle of Zzzquil. Ta ta. **

**Warnings: Sexual content (not in this one though): - I added that frowny face, Hunter-ness (it happens in this one), Underage drinking (that will be in the next chapter), pot (that will also be in the next chapter) (Sam or Dean don't get high, sorry if you were looking for that.) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and be thankful I don't because it would take forever to get a episode out.. **

**Enjoy ;3**

* * *

Breaking the law was exhilarating. Never before had Sam done something so dangerous. He had been witness to children jacking candy at a store, and the thought sent shivers up his spine. He wasn't one to cause trouble. That was his father's forte, always ending up in random situations, needing Sam to save him. However, here he was, with Dean Winchester of all people, breaking into his high school.

* * *

It started earlier after Sam had settled with his grief over the loss of Jessica. It wasn't gone. No, it was still fermenting just under his pores. Ready to bubble up at any second and cause him to do something absolutely idiotic. He was angry, a stark anger that frighten him. He pondered if this was what brought his father to binge. The wrath. Would he end up like that? If he someday couldn't control it?

He hadn't the time to think of his possible alcoholic future before Dean lugged him to biology. It was almost as if he was tripping on acid. Entangled in a mist of everyday faces and cycles, but wasn't really present. His inner thoughts wondered to that of Jess. Her smiling face, kind words, and what an ass he had been to her. The ache he feels now when thinking of her cuts into him in a way that lasts a life time.

On the subject of Dean, he was more coherent. More sound with his emotions, yet he still found butterflies jumping rope deep in his gut whenever those damned eyes locked with his. The guy was a can of worms he all but smashed open, and there was no way to tape it closed. He had gotten a glimpse at the kinder side of Dean during his melt down. Even before that, tending to him after the Mike ordeal.

Although, now they were on the matters of spirits. Dean never came out and _said_ it, but Sam wasn't dumb. He didn't believe it for a second either. There was no such thing, no way. Jessica was the closest thing he ever had to a friend, and she had been killed, by a human. A living one. Dean obviously thought it was a ghost, even though he wouldn't say it. At least he wasn't that insane. Sam would go along solely on the fact that he wanted to help catch the bastard that killed Jess. The more information he gathered would help.

The end of school arrived in nothing flat, while Sam's feet dragged in the mud. He couldn't tell what time it was, or where he was going. Home, he walked home after school. Dean and him had breached apart somewhere after fourth period. They only had a few morning classes together and Sam had transfigured into a zombie. He wouldn't have been much help to Dean anyway. He was a quarter mile from the school when the roar of a motor shook him from his toes up.

It's a ravishing car. Something you hardly ever see in the out skirts of South Dakota. Sleek as the sun's rays frolic over the hood all the way up to the dash. Dean was seated behind the wheel, blaring oldies. Pink Floyd? Sam was at a loss. He knows his way home, he had been walking it all his life. His sore feet know it better than his mind. Why was Dean following him? When the Impala reaches him, still in his trance, Dean rolls down the window. Reminds him of the address bit, has the nerve to say if he wants the chicken out he can. Sam pouts, glares at the other, then pouts again.

Its a tricky thing, his home. It has four walls and a roof so he shouldn't complain, and he doesn't. It's just, others either judge him, or want to "help" him. Like the cop. There was also the chance his father might be residing there tonight. Sam has no issue saying he is ashamed of his dad. Instead, he tells Dean to meet him at the school. The hunter gives him a inquiring once-over then accepts, driving off. Word had spread, Jess is dead. It was disgusting. Sam wanted nothing more than to go home and crack wide a bottle of Jake his dad kept hid, but he had business to attend too.

* * *

Dean was good at commanding on the spot, but putting Humpty Dumpty back together again? No go. He would say the kid was walking around like a vampire if he didn't know for fact that vampires are indifferent, narcissistic asshats. No, Sam was more like death itself. Dark circles under his eyes, pale, drawing up a blank when you're talking to him. To think he had been so sarcastic when making plans earlier, and now he looked like a wet cat.

Dean didn't have time to babysit, though. He needed as much information as possible. He had no idea who this ghost could be, or why it was choosing it's victims. Jessica Moore was a average high school girl, cute, good grades. She didn't seem to be a bully, she wasn't in any special clubs, didn't have any outside affiliations. Was this a rogue spirit? Just killing whoever pissed it off, or even worse, anyone at all?

Its killing method was odd as well. Filling her lungs with water, in turn causing her to drown. He had learnt on the job and from his elders that sometimes ghosts force their victims to go through their death. Was he looking for someone who had drowned? He had called Bobby. He needed to know what her body looked like, and sense he was a student now there was no way it was going to be him. After a long line of being called "Idjit" and many more slews of vulgar words, Bobby agreed to put on a rare suit and check it out.

Dean shook his head, the man would either die of liver failure or a heart attack, no one knew which would come first. He was careful not to mention the child who would be the Bonnie to his Clyde. He had had enough of an ear full over a short car drive, admitting he's bringing along a kid with no knowledge of the supernatural? No thank you. Bobby would be the Rapture, but is Dean's dad found out. You might as well toss him in hell and throw away the key.

He wasn't a idiot, he could tell the kid was on to him. Nevertheless, Sam had agreed to go along with whatever Dean told him, and by god if he didn't, the hunter would shove his boot so far up the nerd's ass he wouldn't walk for a week. If he really wanted to recognize that irritating voice in the back of his mind, he would realize why he was allowing the kid to come. He intrigued Dean. There was something about him that the other couldn't let rest.

With that said, the little son of a bitch didn't have to parade off school grounds before meeting up with him! Already he was breaking the rules, Dean's rules. Provoked, the young hunter mounted his steed, meaning his _baby. _The radio was already on, so he left it. No reason to end its soothing effect. His grip on the wheel was tight, resisting a lead foot. Simple instructions, not hard to follow. Why did Sam have to be such a baby?

When he suddenly saw the outline of the tall, lanky, none other than Sam, his anger seemed to evaporate. The events of the day must be weighing on him. He was in lala-land, curving to face the Impala once it got close enough to hear. Dean did the only thing he could think of, he went to his fallback. Maybe he shouldn't be such a dick, but it's all he knows. Sam didn't handle it poorly, just glared, plus the adorable puppy look. Why he didn't want Dean to come get him at his house, he didn't know. He didn't have time to question him, he needed to prep for tonight, and he was hungry. He drove off, but couldn't help wonder what Sammy was hiding.

* * *

Dean paces in front of the Impala. Rule number two, broken. It is now ten seventeen and there is no sign of inept Sam. Dean had scoped the area ahead of time, taking in the late working teachers still in their rooms. However, the office _and_ library all clear. He could have busted in and out forever ago, and been on his way. Where the hell is the kid? He should just go for it.

"Hey," Dean whirls around, baring his knife because hey, he's on edge and more than aggravated. Standing by the other side of the hood, hands held up in a peace offering, is Sam. His attire has changed from the day, now dark and snug against his skin. Nothing like a ninja or anything, jeans and a T-shirt, but still daunting. He smirks at Dean, "Easy, tiger."

"Where the hell have you been? I told you ten. It's almost half past!" Withdrawing his ready-to-kill stance, Dean glowers at the younger boy. It wasn't that he was worrying about him, not in the slightest. He was just growing impatient, that was all. Nothing more, nothing less. Right. _  
_

Sam put up a lax reaction to Dean pulling a blade and his murderous scolding, but in all actuality he felt he might need to search the ground for his heart. He hadn't meant to be so late, he was a quick runner when need be, it was just, his fear had been confirmed when he arrived home after school. His dad was there.

Of course, he wasn't alone. Bella was there as well, the smell of cheap perfume wafting off her, making Sam want to vomit. His father kept up the norm, ignoring him entirely, but for some reason Bella couldn't. They were both seated on the only intact piece of furniture, the cut off couch that glued itself to the floor. Bella had the nerve to call him "_Sammy_" and ask for a beer.

He loathed having to listen to their barbaric, perverse sex, but it was better than being Bella's play thing. It didn't bother him nearly as much when Dean used pet-names or joked around. Having his father's lady of the night do it was disturbing. He was grateful when they started up and he could slither out the door undetected.

"Um, people have things to do other than breaking and entering, ya know? I came as soon as I was free." Sam strolls around to stand beside the other, hoping his voice was steady, unlike his pulse. Dean wasn't one to fall for such a blatant lie, but knew it was really none of his business. Instead he walks to the trunk and wedges it open, Sam right behind him.

"Wow, so you're like a legit serial killer, huh?" Dean rolls his eyes. He knows full well that all the weapons, salt, props, and other necessities that come with the job might come off a bit, Jack the Ripper, but it's part of the jig.

"No questions, you agreed to that. Now," He makes sure to pocket his favorite gun, riding with holly water (what? can it hurt to make sure?), and salt. Sam is still resisting the urge to poke a very sharp pitch fork when Dean claps him on the back, causing him to stumble forward. "Let's crush this bad boy." Sam snorts at the stupid grin shining on Dean's face.

They make their way over to the front doors leading to both the destinations. The school set up might be strange to some. The office connects to the library and staff quarters, all in one. Then there is the elementary and high school, divided by a gym. A pavilion acts as a bridge between those two buildings, and a second metal arch brings it all together with the head office as base. Dean bends down to pick the lock while Sam keeps watch.

"Is this gonna take some time?" The hunter flexes, not knowing if he wants to bash the window in or the kid's head. Not having to find the answer, he hears the glorious _click_, and they're in. He allows Sam to enter ahead mostly because he wants to keep a eye on him. He hasn't gained his full trust yet, and he wants to make sure nothing happens to him all at the same time.

"Where to first?" A scan of trained eyes informs Dean that they aren't in any immediate danger. Sam is focused on him now, expectant of his charge.

"What's closest?" Sam blinks.

"The office holds all the records. It's down the hall." Dean waves his flashlight in a upbeat motion.

"Well, there's your answer."

* * *

Nothing, nada, zip. They had been going through file after file for the past forever and Dean hasn't found anything that posed the least bit helpful. Honestly, he doesn't even know what he was looking for. He hadn't heard back from Bobby on the body, he had no leads on what or _who_ this spirit may be, and all he is getting was a bunch of pill poppers and school fights. Sam isn't being beneficial at all.

"What exactly are we looking for again?" Dean suppresses a groan at the whiny tone. He is regretting ever letting Sam come. Right now the kid has plunked himself down at a desk and is reading probably his hundredth file. He looks annoyed. Dean could relate.

"Anything weird. Maybe a death, maybe not." The hunter goes back to rifling through cabinets. He isn't really paying attention now, he just wants to get a drink. Bored, so very bored. Was he even looking in the right place? Would they keep deaths of staff or students on files with others? Just when he was about to slam the drawer shut, something catches his eye. Samuel Oconel. _Couldn't hurt to sneak a peek, right? _

Straight A student, no fight history, virgin, blah blah blah. Dean went back to being bored in a flash. It is good to know he brought along Princess Peach to watch his back. Seriously, the kid has no back bone, and he just looped him into a ghost hunt. What the hell is he thinking? He was closing the file when-

"Jesus, Sammy! You were almost expelled?" Sam goes rigid. Kinda like in the cartoons when the cat steps on a rake and it hits him in the face? That rigid. Paper hanging loose in nimble fingers, he stiffly gazes up at Dean. There are two was this could go. He could tell Dean, or he could not tell Dean. He could tell and get laughed at, or not and get badgered. Either option seemed horrid coming from Dean.

"I corrected a teacher." The hunter doesn't go for it, making Sam cringe. "She was wrong about a date. I knew the right date. I embarrassed her in front of the entire class, and she didn't handle it well. She tried to get me say or do something more, to get me in trouble, but I wouldn't. She brought up..personal issues. I snapped. I called her a bitch...It was Mrs. Triller." Dean quirks a eyebrow at this.

"Whoa, little Sammy has a pair. Who would've thought?" Sam chucks a pen at the now laughing Dean, only for it to miss when he ducks. He puffs his cheeks out, sulking, making the other's laughter rise.

"It's Sam. Oh," all playfulness aside, Sam turns to make his way to the cabinet, ready to rid the world of his file for good, "you know, I would know if anyone died here. It's a pretty small town, word travels fast." Dean wants to face-hand or head-palm or whatever. All this time he has been searching for a source of information, and here he is, complaining and throwing ink.

"So, no one died?" Sam shakes his head, adding in a little to much force as he shreds his file. Dean frowns. Sam has to be mistaken, or he isn't hunting a ghost. He is sure it is a spirit though, the sightings where spot on. See your breath, cold spots, things moving on their own. Sam spins to face him, like he wants to say something, then turns away again.

"What?" Sam does a jerky thing with his entire body and doesn't answer. Dean felt his own hissy fit coming along. He charges forward, grabbing the kid and twisting him around. He doesn't seem afraid of the hunter, which is new for Dean. He may be a a few good inches taller, but Dean is stronger, and has a gun. Is he not scared of death? "What is it?" They've fastened into each other's eyes again. Sam's trapped, _again._

"Just a stupid story. They tell it to the little kids on the bus to freak them out." Dean eases off Sam.

"Humor me."

* * *

Aiden loved his mother more than anything in the world. He was her good boy. Dad had went and ran off with the lady from the gas station, and left him to care for Momma. The only problem was, Aiden's head wasn't screwed on quite right. Momma said a bolt or two had gone missing, but her and God loved him just the same. Aiden was told not to worry, but sometimes he did.

At school, he was made fun of. He didn't look any different from the other kids, but his brain was wired wrong, so _he_ was wrong. They picked on him, called him idiot and dumb, but he didn't let that bother him none. He always had Momma. She would rock him and hum a sweet lullaby when he'd come home in tears. She was his rock.

Then Momma got sick. She hid it from Aiden for a very long time, and told him to try and make friends. He always did what his mother asked of him, and started branching out. He didn't really think he was going to find any friends, no, he was just gonna tell Momma he did to make her smile. Then he met David.

David was soft spoken and shy, but he was nice. He didn't seem to have a problem with Aiden's messed up mind, and they soon became friends. They would play King and Knights during lunch and David would always let Aiden win, because he was such a good friend. Aiden had a secret only David knew, and every time Aiden won Dave would bring it up. About his crush on Ross.

Ross had to be the most beautiful thing Aiden ever did see, and that was a lot. She had strawberry blonde hair that curled down to her knees and blue eyes like the sky. Her smile was sweet like sugar, and she had dimples cute as buttons. Dave would always say "Who wouldn't want to go out with a King?" A king with no brain. Ross belonged to Taylor anyway.

Taylor was a bully, he would always pick on David for being Aiden's friend. It made him feel bad other people had to go through pain because of him. Ross was pretty and David could be popular if he wanted. Why Aiden wasted thoughts on either of them was sinful. Then, one day, out of nowhere, Ross spoke to him. He had been so happy.

He stole his mother's ring, the black pearl one. Momma had told him it was rare and special, just like Ross. She had taken it with a smile, telling him it was to much. He got two week with her and David, just the three of them. They would go down to the lake and play silly games. Sometimes even go buy ice cream if Dave had the extra money.

Then Momma died.

He was to busy being selfish to see it coming. He tired shaking her, shouting her name, even slapping her, nothing worked. You didn't need a full brain to know when someone is dead. Aiden ran. He ran to the only two people he could trust in this world, David and Ross. He was surprised to find them with Taylor.

Taylor said he needed to pass a test, and then he could become a popular kid. He could become one of them. Ross wouldn't look him in the eye, and Dave kept hugging him, but he hadn't told him about Momma yet. They led him down to the lake bed where the sun was setting and crickets were preforming their nightly play.

"Swim across and back."

This wasn't right. He wanted to be one of them, more than anything. That's what his mother's dying wish was, but David and Ross both knew he couldn't swim. He had tried to learn, even Dave tried to teach him with no such luck. Why would they come up with such a test? Ross stepped forward, taking his hand in hers. She was wearing his mother's ring. He decided then, he would do this.

The first few steps were easy, then the earth just slipped out from under him. He tried to remember what Dave said about floating but panic had already set in. He splashed around helplessly, praying to god someone would save him. Surely David would jump in to his rescue. No such thing happened. The last thing he saw before the water swallowed him was his two "friends" at the bank, watching his death unravel. Doing nothing to stop it.

**OoO**

"We killed him." Ross watches as the last of the flashing lights drives off into the night. David is to her left, looking just as depressed as she. Taylor is to her right, he could easily be mistaking this as a church gathering. He sneers at her comment.

"Hush up, Ross. People will hear you. They got the body out, no foul play. He drowned. Simple." He pushes off the tree trunk and starts to head up hill, the others following foot. It wasn't until the next day at school do they find out that Aiden's mother is also dead. Ross is so upset she no longer feels worthy of the ring given to her by the sweet boy. She hides it in a crack in the wall, in a shelf in the library. She doesn't know why there, she just needs it off of her.

The next day Taylor Baker, Ross Reed, and David Long where all found dead. Cause of death: lungs filled with water.

* * *

"Okay, so there are three murders that match up to Jessica's and you're just now telling me?" Dean isn't really angry. He's got a name, a reason, and a body. He is freaking thrilled. Sam can't be this slow, so he must really be a skeptic. Right now he isn't even looking at him. The floor suddenly became fascinating.

"Well, I mean, even if it is true, it happened like sixty years ago. I didn't think it would matter." He shuffles on his feet. He hadn't even thought about the stupid story until stupid Dean brought up stupid deaths. There is still no such things as ghosts. Its just a weird coincidence. Dean marches to the door.

"We're going to the library."

For such a small town, and such a run down school, the library was large. If Sam's geeky mind had its way, it would compare it to that of something from Hogwarts. Books veiled with dust and webs stacked high corner to corner. Tables aged, sporting wording of their own. Dean had to bite his tongue when Sam tripped over a chair and almost fell. At least he was quiet about it, as someone who almost body slammed into the ground could be.

They make their way over to the small table taped off. Dean uses his torch to shine a light over the scene. Besides the police tape, it looks like every other sitting area in the room. Books are lying open, a few pencils, she was studying. Sam is beside him before he knows it and he waits. Waits for something, anything.

"This is where it happened, huh? She just..died here?" Remembering the tale, Dean flashes his light over to a shelf in the corner. He couldn't be certain if that part was true or not, couldn't if any of it was, but it was all he had to work with. He weaves through the tape and goes to the shelf.

"Not gonna start crying on me again, are ya Sammy?" Ouch. Even he can feel the sting and puckers his lips as he breaths out low. He really needs to come up with a new fallback. Sam is still standing there, staring at the empty seat, seemingly oblivious to Dean mocking him. Dear god he better not be falling back into candy land.

Dean pops the flashlight into his mouth as he carelessly tosses books to the floor. Sam glares at him for that, no game trip for him, and moves to pick them up. _Nerd_. Right there in the upper left hand side is a small hole. Dean takes out his knife, making sure to wave it in front of Sam's face first, earning a punch to the knee cap sense he was still bending to gather books, and tries to dig at the hole.

It wasn't hard to get through a hundred year old wood. It was just he secretly had a fear of dark, old, cave-like crannies. Mostly because it would lead to him having to stick his hand, or worse his head, into said crater. Know what usually resides in those kind of places? Insects. They make his skin crawl, especially the ones that fly. He was in the middle of being a woose when Sam sprang up right beside his freaking ear.

"Well?" Dean almost clocks him.

"Son of a bitch! Can't you warn a guy before you, before you get all springy!" Sam frowns, backing up, giving the hunter his space. He had finished cleaning Dean's mess. Maybe it was instinct from years of picking up after his father, or his view of books being sacred.

"Sorry. Did you find the ring?" He feels dirty even asking. This is all very, juvenile. He'll admit the story and Jess's death do have some similarities, but one was fiction and one was fact. Even if the deaths of the three high school kids did happen, their murderer was good and dead by now, or so old he couldn't kill. No ghost.

Dean pretends not to hear him and castes the beam into the etched shelf. There is a gap of one inch, but no ring. Sam and Dean both shrink a little at the new information. That part was a lie. The story was a lie. Two very different thoughts, two very different boys. Just as Dean is lowering the flashlight, it catches something.

"What is that?" Sam uses his entire arm to point out what he means, and Dean slaps it away, peeved. Masked under a chipped piece of wood is a pink, yes pink, _fingernail._ He picks it up and gawks at it. Two options: Ross Reed had pink nail polish on, or someone had gotten to the ring before them.

"Somebody has the ring." Sam gives him a bewildered look.

"You can't be serious. It's probably just a stupid prank or something." Dean narrows his eyes. He's had about enough of Sam's bull shit. Once tonight was over, the kid was out. No more Sam Oconel to worry about. He needed to find the remains of Aiden Morgan, salt and burn him, and get the ring just in case. He was tired of putting up-

He watches and Sam's stubborn breath abruptly comes into focus. _Son of a bitch_. It's cold out of nowhere, and Dean knows they are no longer alone. Sam has gone cross-eyed, watching his breath. The hunter can literally hear the gears turning inside the kid's head. Trying to come up for another "normal" excuse for this. Good luck.

"We need to go." He takes to lead, hustling them as fast as possible. Dean is scrutinizing every single detail as they make their way, salt in hand. Sam is a few clips behind, still trying to find a logical explanation. He didn't notice the book shelf towering over him begin to sway until it was to late. Dean spun around after hearing the uncanny, and all to familiar creak of something ample.

"Sam!"

Dean was right when he said Sam was curvy like a chick. He smelt good too, like honey and books, old books. He was on top of the kid, sprawled out. There was a deafening bang when solid met even more solid. He can feel every rib, every muscle, every choked breath. Sam is panting, eyes in slits but directed at Dean. It was a hard fall.

"Dude, you're heavy." Sam places a hand on Dean's chest, pushing him up just so their faces are inches apart. Their breaths mingle, and for some reason Dean finds himself being the one to blush.

"Right." He doesn't move. His eyes dart to San's lips, taking in how soft and eatable they are. Wait. What? Dean Winchester doesn't eat people's faces, most defiantly male faces. That isn't what he meant. He needs a drink. His dreamy, slightly creepy, thoughts are interrupted when he's thrown from Sam and flung into the wall.

Poised in the center of the library in none other than Aiden Morgan, and he looks pissed.

* * *

**Oh my, a cliffy. How will I ever forgive myself? Seriously, I fucking hate cliff hangers, but I'm freaking tired and that is all you're getting for this chapter. 5,078 words will have to do. I'm sorry if the Aiden bit seemed a little childish, but I wanted it to seem as if he was telling the story himself. If you haven't figured out why he killed Jessica yet, you will in the next chapter. **

**Oh, also, I'll try and make sure not to keep you waiting longer than a week per chapter, though I won't make any promises. There is this bitch called life that gets in the way of things. Hope you liked it. :)**

**Review. I shit giggles and giggle shits. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, I know I'm a bit late, but I was sick so I'm using that. Also, this is a little short, and cut to the point, but I wanted it to be more about Sam and Dean, and answering the questions I left hanging. I snipped some things out, added in things I wasn't planning, this was a very new and odd chapter for me. It kinda went back to the second one where was more underline drawing to each other and blah blah blah. **

**Warnings: Sexual content (Nope ): , Hunter-ness, Underage drinking, pot (kinda sorta) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural...*cries* **

* * *

Sam wasn't religious. His mother had been. It was one of the few scattered puzzle pieces he recalled of her. Being woken from a Sunday morning slumber, dressed in loathsome clothes, and escorted to a rundown church. He had bought it, young and ignorant. A man in the clouds watching over us. Not to say he didn't believe in God, just not theirs. God was most likely dead for all he knew, leaving the world he created in utter chaos. He hated God.

That was why right then, at that very moment, staring into the eyes of what could be none other than a dead man, his mind was reeling. He had never seen Aiden Morgan, but he didn't have to, because he could actually _see_ through him. He was at the point where it was time to laugh it up and tell Dean to pull off the smoke and mirrors, but he had a sickening feeling the man who had just be catapulted off him had nothing to do with this.

He wanted to faint. He didn't care if it made him a girl or a baby, this was fucking screwy and messed up, and _Mother Fuck that is a Fucking Ghost! _

Aiden is short, shorter than Dean or himself, and thin, but professedly stronger. He is a spirit. Dean moaned from the other side of the room, and Sam's hormones, even in great danger, took time to notice the sexual appeal. He had forgotten to worry about the other's condition, and peered over to the hunter. He didn't seem compromised, just irked at being thrown.

Sam stood, not really knowing what he planed to do, but remaining on the floor wasn't the best option. Aiden moved with him, stepping forward, making him shut down. It was weird watching a exterrestrial make its way about. Like it was there, but it wasn't.

"David."

There were a few things to process, along with what was already swimming inside his brain.

One: Aiden Morgan was alive, sorta, and he was blocking Sam from Dean. The hunter was now sitting upright and glaring daggers at the ghost, or Sam. He couldn't really tell seeing as Aiden was a little transparent.

Two: Aiden Morgan could speak, and was speaking to him. He was conveying to him of his old friend David, leading him to believe the trick tale to be truth. Not really talking of him, just saying his name. One word. Almost like a hello.

Three: Aiden Morgan was greeting David from the grave. Someone dead for many years now, having not walked this earth for a long time. (Hopefully) He was bitter and certain, directing the name at Sam.

_Oh. _

Four: Aiden Morgan thought Sam was David Long.

* * *

Sam does a tragically comical gulp and strains his neck to give Dean a pleading look. The hunter holds up a finger, clearly still tender. When he tries to stand his legs form a pretzel and he curses. He has a kid with slow reflexes, a ghost with bad eyesight, and now his legs won't work. Nice.

Seeing that Dean wouldn't be much help in the near future Sam takes a deep breath. He isn't a sissy, despite what people say. It isn't that the notion of beings living outside the laws of logic and science scare him, it's the fact that he may become one if they are real.

"Um..No. I am Sam." Aiden halts his advancement, his face morphing into that of confusion. Dean chuckles from behind the ghost and Sam wants to slap him.

"Dude, you should so say it backwards." He does in his head and doesn't get it. Then again, and again. When it hits him, he feels stupid for just wasting time thinking about it.

"Really? 'Sam I am' is funny to you right now?" Dean snickers, then gestures at the spirit with his hands, silently telling Sam to keep him busy. If there was ever a time for him to grow that "pair" he was talking about, it was now. The younger boy wants to puke.

Aiden disregarded the banter entirely, a battle within causing him to sink to his knees. He didn't know a Sam, but that was Dave. It had to be. His hair was longer, and he was a bit taller, but there was no telling how long he was asleep. People grew.

"Lies. You're a liar, just like Ross!" Sam didn't know how to stall, but letting him rant seemed to work. He'd go with that.

"How did they-we lie?" _Note to self: Never openly admit you're one of the people who took part in the death of the ghost who is right in front of you__, even if it is utter bull shit. _Aiden's head snaps up to bore directly at Sam.

"You are worse than a liar! You were suppose to be my knight, my right hand man," Before Sam can even comprehend whats happening he is face to face with a seething ghost, icy palms resting on his chest. It's as if tendrils are digging themselves into his skin and draining out his being. Then he feels it replaced with something else. Filling him up, inside out. "You're a traitor."

The next moments were that of a blur. He felt more than he saw. There was pain, then there wasn't. He wanted to cough more than anything, but some unknown force prevented him, making it ungodly. He watched as Aiden Morgan took his soul in his hands and filled his lungs with water, he was going to die.

He didn't think of his father, the man that wouldn't spare a second on his behalf.

His mother either, she was a faded picture that set on his nightstand.

Jessica was kind to him, but was never his friend, he never allowed it.

Which made him wonder why images of Dean's stupid, grinning face flashed before his eyes. He knew him for a day, and he was the person he thought of at the end? Dean had a heroic personality, and obviously wasn't lying about spirits. He also was thoughtful and kindhearted. It was a shame he couldn't get to know him better.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

**Sam's**** POV:**

I'll let you in on a little secret. Sometimes when my father is passed out drunk, perfectly defenseless, I debate killing him. Not in the gory, brutal way he did my mother. I'd slit his throat or something, nice and clean. The blood would be a petty mess. Does this make me a sociopath?

I say sociopath and not psychopath because I simply don't feel anything towards my dad. Maybe I'm both, or neither. I could be a whole new bowl of crazy for doctors to poke and prod. I have emotions, I'm certain I do. I have a little boy in a box. That box behind the wires and nerves in my skull, he's there. Crying over the loss of his mommy, and now Jess.

I have emotions for Dean Winchester, Mr. New Guy Sex God. They aren't all because of the two lovelies between my legs tugging me to him, no. He is hot, probably-no absolutely-to much for his own good. He always has a smart ass remark to say, and is usually right, making it worse. My god, the pick up lines..

He punched Mike in the fucking face. For me. He fretted over me like a mother hen. He reminds me of Lancelot, and I swear, I know how pitiful that is. I still think the dude got the shitty end of the deal. He stayed with me when the news of Jess came. Promised justice. Screwed himself in the process, but he is a idiot. Barreled to me and protected me from being squashed.

He is a man of mystery. He is just that, isn't he? A man. Not a dumb teenager with his head up his ass. Dean is a man, full grown and with years of practice at this sort of thing. Here I am dying at the hands of a ghost who thinks I'm his long lost friend, and I'm just now realizing this? I'm so stupid.

Death is weird. You would think there would be a light, or a tunnel, _something. _Maybe fragments? They have those, right? There isn't anything. It's just dark. No gray, red, blue, no fucking white. Is this what death is? Nothingness?Air isn't thin, it is heavy, like a elephant decided to rest upon my chest. My temple is the inside of a drum and I feel like I'm dying.

Oops, already dead.

Dead and in hell. Someone, something, keeps slapping me. Chanting my nickname like a prayer. Lucifer is a sick bastard to go so low. Look at me holding myself high up there. Like Luci himself would waste time on me. My gut turns and bile rises to back of my mouth because I know that voice, and I really don't want to open my eyes.

He isn't real. I'm dead as a door nail. This is a cruel ploy.

_Dean._

I open them anyway.

* * *

Dean's heart stills when Sam stirs, placing the bottle of water back on the stand. Hey, whatever got him to wake up. A little splash to the face wouldn't hurt. Well, not as much as slapping him had. He hadn't been freaking out. No, not the entire drive back to the motel, Sam nestled beside him in the front because fuck the back seat. He wasn't fast enough, wasn't clever enough like his dad. Sammy got hurt because of him. This was his fault.

"De?" It's that damned puppy look and it has Dean utterly whipped.

Sam blinks through the fog, trying to void his eyes of all sight deprivation, taking in his surroundings. Peach walls that are peeling, fuzz included. Tattered curtains, and he can feel each spring on the bed he lay. Dean's house is worse than his own. Then he sees the papers stapled to the door, abnormal. He tracks movement to he right and finds a worried, but still stupidly grinning, Dean.

"Where are we?" He tries to sit up, then thinks better of it when a stabbing pain jolts through him. Dean places a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Sammy. You just had a ghost feel you up. Take some time to collect yourself." Sam glares at him but the reason isn't really clear, and opts to lean on the headboard. He wasn't dead. That's great. He _had_ been felt up by a ghost. Not so great. Dean roams over to the mini fridge, out of his view, and leaves him to do the only thing he can. Freak.

Ghosts are real.

Ghost almost killed him.

Dean lives in a motel.

He is alone in a motel with a guy he's only known for one day with a arsenal in his trunk, with no way of getting away.

Ghosts are real.

He almost died.

Jess was killed by a ghost.

Dean is a ghost-buster.

Ghosts are real.

When Dean reentered he isn't exactly inclined to find Sam with his legs drawn up to his chin. He isn't one to deal with people when they learnt of the supernatural. He left that for his father or Bobby, the old men pulling crap assurances out of nowhere. Before he is even halfway to the bed the kid speaks.

"I'm fine. I just.. It's a lot to take in. I'm fine. Really." Dean shoots him a cynical leer, not buying it in the least, but not really wanting to deal with Robo-Sam again. Still, he sits on the end of the mattress, being careful not to startle the kid. Sam glances up at him.

"What exactly happened?" Dean closes the gap between them by handing Sam a bottle, completely ignoring his question. It agitates him until he realizes what it is he is being given.

"Beer?" Dean keeps a straight face, immediately gathering Sam's annoyance again.

"You do know I'm underage right?" Dean shrugs.

"When do you turn eighteen?" Sam thinks about this, ultimately deciding Dean wouldn't care regardless his answer, but once again, humors him.

"Friday." The hunter's interest is peeked, not having guessed it being that close. It's Tuesday. Sam didn't seem to elated about becoming a full fledged adult, keeping a bored face and still refusing the drink. Nerd and rule follower. Well, he did just break about a billion laws, so why was he being such a Nancy?

"You can go fight and die for your fellow Americans, but you won't drink a beer with me? Cm'on Sammy. Live a little, it'll make me happy." On the last sentence Dean leans in, gently shoving the bottle onto Sam's chest so he has no other option but to grab it or become a wet mess. He smirks at the slight blush spreading on those once so pale cheeks because yes, they are too near.

"H-how old are you?" Dean goes hard and pushes away, but Sam is to busy berating himself for stuttering to notice the sudden change. There was to much going on, to much on the line, _Sam's_ life on the line to continue to lie.

"My name is Dean Winchester." Sam blinks and is most likely about to say something totally sarcastic and foot-up-ass worthy, but Dean continues. "I'm twenty-two years old, and I hunt things. I'm a hunter."

"What?" Sam frowns and the hunter has a urge to box his ears or something.

"What you saw tonight, what hurt you, was a spirit. My job is to take care of things like Aiden Morgan. To protect people. There are other things out there besides ghosts, but that isn't important right now. What is, is that this spirit has his eyes on you, and its my job to make sure you're safe, Sammy." Dean watches the kid as he relays this information, hitching for any sigh of 'You're crazy and I'm running for it' reaction. He's surprised when Sam actually relaxes on the pillows.

"He thought I was his friend." The hunter snorts.

"Some friend." Sam hated that he agreed. Part of him felt horrible for Aiden. The other half recalled his almost death and felt no sympathy.

"He thought Jessica was Ross.." Dean frowns but doesn't object, much to Sam's dismay.

"Care to tell me what happened and how I'm not a ghost myself?" Dean grunts but turns to face him anyway.

"Salt." Sam raises a eyebrow. "Threw salt on him. Makes them like, vanish for a while. Was able to get you the hell outta there and back here."

"Seriously? Salt?" Dean nods. Sam sighs and takes a long swig of his drink, much to the amusement of the hunter.

"So, why exactly is it so easy for you to buy all of this? Just curious." Sam smiles up at him, a all to familiar sadness to Dean shinning in those eyes, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention and his joints to ache.

"A monster killed my mother. Why not there be others out there?"

Sam was already latching onto him, and he had no idea how to shake him off.

* * *

Randy had no fucking clue what was going on, and he sure as hell had no idea where to start. He didn't get paid enough for this. Sure, he didn't exactly like teenagers, but they were still kids. They didn't deserve to die, not so young, not this way. The big freaking unanswered question was how exactly these murders where being pulled off.

Mike Lambert. He was found at the south side of the football field. According to the report he had pot in his system, no surprise there, but he was on the team. Randy didn't understand why he would risk dashing his chances over a stupid high. He was a normal kid, got into a few fights, average grades.

Died because there was fucking water in his lungs.

* * *

**Okay, so not actual pot smoking, but it didn't seem that important. To be honest a lot is going on right now, but I felt obligated to upload this chapter, and did my best. I hope you liked it. **

**Review. I shit giggles and giggle shits. **


	6. AN!

**A/N: I have no internet! :( I'm at a friend's house at the moment, but time is scarce and I don't have time to write the next chapter. Because of this, It will be a few more day before I'm able to upload 6. **

**I'm sorry, this blows. x[ **


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